Six Sentences: A Picture Worth A Thousand Words

Mike's handler is looking at a black and white print of  Sergei and the Doctrine general at a meeting. He can tell there's something going on.
Smoke billowed from his nose as Mike exhaled in one long stream. It hung in the stillness of the room, layered above the floor like incense in a temple, glinting in the sunlight.

“Not sure what.” He shrugged his shoulders, the simple observation a completely honest assessment.

The man’s bark of laughter reminded him of a hacksaw against steel, and Mike took another long drag.

“Find out, then...there might be a way to exploit it.”
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